While the chronological archive records when the poems arrived, this collection arranges them by the terrain they cover. Some poems appear in multiple sections, reflecting the way memory overlaps and deepens.
I. War and Exile
Poems that bear witness to the conflict that shaped a generation, the fall of Saigon, and the immediate aftermath. These are the memories that refuse to fade.
water buffaloes reflecting in the moonlight
bombs falling like raindrops
water buffaloes
listen to falling bombs
during Tet
of 1968
at
a gas station
with
bullet holes
the French landed
then the Americans
on skin
the heat of the sun
leaving
fireworks over Saigon
became a mute
in America
in emerald rice field
the sound of helicopters approaching
too small
for a mole
II. The Boat
The journey across the South China Sea. The thirst, the fear, the silence, and the rescue. The moment the ocean became a graveyard of boats.
alone
this vast ocean
from mother
for the boat journey
turning around
someone jumped overboard
in a desert
of a boat at sea
the journey
began
the sound
of home
a graveyard
of the boats at sea
III. The Practice
The breath, the bell, the silence. Poems born from forty years of meditation, from the log on the beach to the forest monastery in Myanmar.
approaching
songbirds still sing
in a pond of lotus flowers
be still
my own ego
big as a mountain
chip at it
a little
each day
seeking for you
halfway around the world
Guru
where are you
but in my heart
seems as yesterday
I have not let go
falling leaves
why think of summer
metamorphoses
in its own time
fading
silence remains
returning
the stream awaits
the forest
listens
the sound
coming from the forest
covering
the road home
full moon
no reflection
a death
renewal
breath
aware
yields
to the wind
in full bloom
the length of a breath
out breath
at touching point
at sunrise
the sunflowers listen
echo
in the forest
the frogs
become quiet
in moonlight
no shadow in the forest
vibration
enters the body
reflected
in still water
at the end
the real practice begins
IV. The Forest and the Robe
The forty-five days as a novice monk in Myanmar. The simplicity of the hut, the silence of the woods, and the moment of leaving.
collecting morning dew
a graveyard of mosquitoes
in a pond of lotus flowers
be still
in full bloom
this muddy pond
the forest
listens
echo
in the forest
the frogs
become quiet
in moonlight
no shadow in the forest
vibration
enters the body
the sound
coming from the forest
on the hook
the last time
worn on the journey
seems so small now
V. Garden and Daily Life
The quiet observations of the present. The bees, the peonies, the hummingbirds, and the simple act of watering. The watcher at work in the ordinary.
darting
a field of honeysuckles
black sunflower seeds
chirping red-headed finches
floating above
purple lavender
buzzing
the peony flower
moving
in silent pond
chirping
in moonlit night
from the garden
on the kitchen table
bending
at the stem
waiting
at the bird feeder
Spanish lavender
scent in the air
the shape
of a butterfly
the frogs
listen
the sound
echo
chirping
on the fence
fragrance
this moment
cherry blossom
without flowers
trapped
set free
have
a better next life
the freeway
a truck swerves
enjoy the lavender
I'm just watering
my daughter's gift
on my birthday
cricket chirping
by Costco parking lot
the cicadas
become quiet
on
a power line
a bird
on a bare branch
hummingbird
feeder
in springtime
intoxicated bees
falling
in a gentle breeze
a log glowing
like fireflies
wishing for
a lantern and mooncake
I get
a loaf of French bread
swaying
are you happy I'm watering
my brother made
soaring in the wind
makes honey
that's all
heat wave
the cicadas become quiet
by the fence
for passersby
has
feelings too
disappear
in morning sun
translucent
in sunlight
wilting
on the kitchen table
VI. Snow and Winter
The cold of Pennsylvania, the homelessness, the quiet of the empty chair. The snow that covers the past and the present alike.
in
falling snow
in falling snow
with no destination
cold winter night
I walk on
melting
the river flows
casting my shadow
into the night
shadow on snow
my companion
the breath
in falling snow
at the table
it's snowing
I asked the Abbot
for a place to stay
covering my home
the VW Bug
VII. Loss and Memory
The things left behind, the people who are gone, the moments of letting go. The ache that remains when the snow melts.
seems as yesterday
I have not let go
I cried out for you
I love you, mom
on
an empty park bench
for a companion
after the separation
on the ground
the color of passing
that was
a good meal
in moonlight
alone
I planted a persimmon tree
to remember you
at the table
it's snowing
at the bottom of the lake
the moment I let go
blossoms
hesitanly falling
I asked the Abbot
for a place to stay
covering my home
the VW Bug
VIII. America
The strange land of arrival. The fireworks, the BBQ, the silence of the immigrant, the feeling of being a guest.
in a yellow wood
but needed a cane
that was
a good meal
the scent of charcoal
from the hibachi
sound of explosion
on July 4th
became a mute
in America
IX. Home
The shape of Vietnam, the sound of the ocean, the return. The question of where the road ends.
returning
the stream awaits
covering
the road home
cold winter night
I walk on
hugging the sea
the shape of home
the shape
of Viet Nam
is not like
Tet there
on a barbwire
are you looking for home
the sound
of home
carrying two loads
Saigon remembers me
I asked the Abbot
for a place to stay
covering my home
the VW Bug